milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

adam young,
mordred

(no subject)

*Adam's sitting on a bench in the corner of the bar, his legs drawn up to his chest. He's sipping from a mug of coffee, and reading a book. If you ask, he might tell you what it is. Maybe.*

Summary: Adam and Mordred talk. Adam gets upset, Mordred takes advantage, and Adam Is Bad. Ooops.

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"Cause I got bored with them, see?"

But they're people.

There is something not very nice in Mordred's eyes, something cold and cruel and sadistic.

Something to do with a fifteen-year-old boy stabbing an unarmed man as he slept.

"Exactly."

*Adam doesn't say anything, but the table starts shaking, and Mordred's hands are warming up - to a rather uncomfortable level.*

hands covered in blood, blood to take back control from a boy who had none, none please don't don't please

Calmly, he raises the cigarette up to his lips again, and just watches.

*And his feet now, too. Hotter and hotter until it feels as though he's standing on coals*

what do you think of that, boy? Think your father will do anything? Lets break a finger, one by one...

"Is there a point to this, Adam?"

He's not screaming, not wincing, not doing anything.

*Adam shrugs*

Not really.

*Not really. Yes. Maybe. No. It's anger, pure and simple, though he can't quite explain it.*

"Then why are you doing it?"

Calm, amused, mocking as hell. Don't show it hurts, don't show what they did, just bite your lip and and accept the punishment for being captured, accept the shame and lack of control

need it back!

*Adam shrugs. He does that a lot.*

I was bored.

"If you're trying to prove a point, it's really quite wasted, boyo."

No, no point. It's just fun.

*Yes, fun. That's why he's glaring. And Mordred's cigarette goes up in a brief flash of fire, and falls to the table in ashes.*

"You're not sadistic, Adam, you're doing this because you're pissed at me."

His words are cold, almost able to be touched and feeling off blood and winter and death.

Oh, I am?

His lips brush Adam's cheek as he appears next to him, burning of the cold. Reaching out with his burning hands, he takes Adam's chin and twists his head towards him.

"Yeah. You're pissed."

What if I am?

*deep, slow breaths. deep and slow. and he's definitely not thinking about Mordred's lips.*

Golden eyes close, lips as well. He's too close, suddenly, and the look in his eyes is even worse.

Cause and effect, action and reaction - loss of control, take it back

"I can get to you. That's interesting."

You're not getting to me.

You're not.

*And very, very slowly the heat starts to fade away, but if somebody were to look closely, they'd see the look of strain and effort on Adam's face.*

As the heat fades, Mordred leans back, back against the wall and one leg drawn up between them.

He says nothing, just looks at him. Eyes of a hawk -cruel and savage and utterly neutral.

See?

*his voice almost cracks*

Not upset at all.

His lips curve into an affectionate smile.

"Liar."

*Adam swallows deepy and tries his best to look blank as he wills the temperature in Mordred's hands and feet to return to normal.*

I'm fine.

*and if he sounds like a petulant child, it certainly wasn't intentional.*

"'Fine' has many meanings, not all of them offical, boyo." He locks eyes with Adam and then reaches out to ghost a finger over the other boy's lips.

Eyes are still cold. That cold, and they could use you and fuck you and throw you away without a moment's thought, just to get back the impossible.

It's the getting back bit that's the scariest, the vindictiveness of human nature.

He won't go until Adam gets that, but he's a smart boy.

Then I embody all of them. I'm fine, you're fine, we're all... fine. Okay?

*he narrows his eyes and glares at Mordred with a certainty that he doesn't feel*

Do you have a point?

"Several, actually. Skilled in all, and yet, always seem to fail." He pulls back thinks that over a moment.

"Ah well."

And vanishes.

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